


Intermission: Rule Eight

by Selenay



Series: Damage Limitation [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blame Fahre, Cock-Blocking, M/M, Ridiculous, Secret Relationship, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The making out in supply closets part of Clint's secret relationship plan was a total disaster. In retrospect, they agreed that Clint probably should have realised that ambushing Phil and trying to pull him into a supply closet would cause a problem.</p><p>Explaining to medical why Clint had a black eye and needed two stitches in his eyebrow was not one of Phil's favourite moments.</p><p>The purchase request for new shelving in storage closet IB-188 was just plain embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission: Rule Eight

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise? And still can't write linearly?
> 
> There will be at least one more in this series. I haven't tortured enough PR managers yet and I'm still in the middle of the Marvel Big Bang process so I need fic-writing stress relief.

Rule eight was added to the list by Clint two days after the sex grenade incident. Phil thought he had covered most of the important bases with rules one to seven, but he was willing concede that Clint had a point.

"Tasteless jokes, Phil," Clint said. "Tasteless, horrible jokes at the worst possible moment. Probably in public. We are not telling Tony Stark until we absolutely have to. It's for his sake as much as ours: how much paperwork do you have to fill in when you tase him, anyway?"

As Clint was sitting in Phil's bed, naked except for a sheet that barely covered his lap, Phil felt that he was at an unfair disadvantage in this argument. For example, Phil was fully clothed and had spent the last six hours buried in overdue mission reports, thanks to the sex grenade thing, while Clint had slept like a log and looked refreshed, cheerful and relaxed. Phil was also standing in his bedroom doorway holding a folder and possibly looking a little stunned, which he didn't think was his best look, and Clint was, well, naked. It was difficult to say no to a naked Clint.

"We're all living in the same building," Phil said practically. "It's not going to stay secret for long."

"We can be sneaky," Clint said. "It'll be fun."

"Sneaky?" Phil asked, putting the folder down carefully on a table by the door and moving closer to the bed.

Clint grinned. "Yeah, sneaky. You know, me sneaking in here at night through the air vents for mind-blowing covert sex. Making out in supply closets. Fucking in your shower and pretending we don't know where the hot water went. It'll be great."

"It sounds like a lot of work," Phil said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It sounds hot," Clint said. "Just us, nobody else knowing, a secret."

"Passing notes in the back of class?" Phil said. "I'm not a third-grader, Clint."

"I've noticed," Clint said with a cheerfully ridiculous leer. "I've definitely noticed. I could be talked into a reminder, though, in case you're worried that I'd forgotten."

"Now who's making dreadful sex jokes?"

"You're rubbing off on me," Clint said with a shrug. "And speaking of rubbing..."

"You've got a one-track mind," Phil said.

"It's a quality you value," Clint said, kneeling up and allowing the sheet to slide away. "You said so in my last annual review."

And that was how rule eight "Tony Stark must never know" was added to the list in Clint's messy handwriting.

***

Of course, not telling Tony Stark also meant not telling the rest of the team. Natasha knew, Phil was sure of it from her brief smile and nod the first time she saw him back at the tower. She could always be trusted with a secret.

Telling Thor anything usually meant telling the rest of the team because even when he was trying to be discreet, his inner voice was louder than many peoples' shouts. So Thor definitely could not be told.

Phil didn't like the idea of asking Steve and Bruce to lie for him so they were kept out of the loop as well.

Luckily everyone had been rather distracted for the first couple of days, recovering from the effects of the targeted hormone disruptor, so nobody noticed where Phil took Clint when they first got home. They also did not question Clint's absence for the two days that he spent recovering in Phil's quarters because they all spent the two days sleeping the effects off. By the time anyone was in a state fit to wonder, Clint was feeling sufficiently recovered to leave via the air vent over Phil's objections and so the issue was skirted for a while.

***

The first close call came a few days later. Phil was, for once, sitting on the sofa in the living area of his floor in the tower reading a book instead of trying to make sense of paperwork for the Avengers. He didn't look up when he heard the quiet click of a vent opening followed by the barely audible thump of Clint landing a moment later. His eyes never left the page as Clint stalked across the room towards him and his only response when Clint stood over him and then sank gracefully to kneel on the couch straddling his thighs was to pull the book slightly closer.

"Hi," Clint said.

"Good evening," Phil said, turning the page.

"Good book?"

"It passes the time."

A moment later the book was pulled out of his hand and deposited neatly on the back of the sofa.

"I can't believe the spark has gone out of our relationship already," Clint complained sadly.

Phil put his hands on Clint's ass to pull him slightly closer and allowed a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth. "You're just going to have to try harder, then."

"I like a challenge."

Clint leaned down and kissed him, slowly at first and then growing deeper, fiercer. It was the intensity that Clint kissed with that surprised Phil every time. The total concentration that he could fall into on an op was something that Phil had witnessed many times over the years but to have all that attention focused on him was incredible. A contented hum rumbled through Clint's chest and Phil pulled him closer, grinding up against him as heat spread through his body.

Clint pulled away for a moment to strip off his t-shirt and then he was back, nipping at Phil's lower lip before kissing him again. Phil spread his hands over Clint's back, feeling the skin hot and twitching under his fingers.

"Still want to read that book?" Clint asked, panting slightly.

His pupils were huge and his lips were swollen and red.

"Not even a little bit," Phil admitted before kissing his way down Clint's neck and starting to work on his belt.

He had just got the final button on Clint's jeans unfastened and Clint was making deliciously wanton sounds as Phil sucked at his collarbone when there was a knock at the door.

They both froze.

"Maybe whoever it is will go away," Clint whispered after a moment.

There was another knock followed by a loud hammering and then Stark's voice said, "Coulson, I can see a light under the door. I know you're in there."

Clint dropped his head to Phil's shoulder and swore.

"I'd better find out what he wants," Phil said reluctantly. "He'll probably get JARVIS to unlock the door any moment now."

"I apologise, sirs," JARVIS's voice floated out. "His access codes will override your locks."

"Shit, I forgot about that," Clint said and he rolled off Phil to sprawl on the couch.

Phil took a couple of deep breaths, straightened his shirt and flattened his hair, before opening the door. Stark's hand was raised to knock again and he had that manic yet unfocused look that he got when he was deep in his work.

"Finally!" Stark said. "What were you doing in there?"

"I-"

"Actually I don't care, I just need Barton," Stark continued. "JARVIS says he's in there. Isn't it a bit cruel to inflict paperwork on him this late? Anyway, never mind that, I need Barton. Got something he needs to test. Hey, want to try out your new bow?"

Phil turned to see Clint completely dressed, not a hair out of place and only his slightly flushed face betrayed that they had been up to anything other than paperwork. Thankfully Stark was too far into his focus place to notice.

"We'll pick this up again later, OK?" Clint said calmly.

"Jeez, I'm sure an HB-whatever-whatever can wait until morning," Stark said. "We've got stuff to blow up, come on, you're never going to want a SHIELD-issue piece of crap again."

Clint threw a helpless look over his shoulder as he followed Stark to the elevator and even spending an hour rejecting all of Stark's reports for petty formatting violations didn't relieve Phil's frustration.

***

JARVIS was unable to lock Stark out of either of their quarters or refuse to tell Stark where either of them were. The best that the AI could offer was a compromise: alerting them if Stark requested their locations and providing a warning the moment JARVIS had confirmation that Stark was on his way to Clint or Phil's floor.

As it seemed that Stark had a bizarre or possibly non-existent sleep schedule and he didn't understand why other people might not be interested in trying out cool new toys in the middle of the night, having a warning was helpful.

"How often does this happen?" Phil asked as they frantically hunted for pants, shirts and socks at two in the morning.

Phil made a note to himself to add rule nine to the list: all clothes are to be picked up and folded before sex, not after, and definitely not left until the next morning.

"Once or twice a week?" Clint said vaguely. "Fuck it, where did my belt go?"

By the time Stark hammered on Phil's door, the belt had been located behind a dresser and Phil had his tie looped around his neck although not actually tied.

"Coulson, I need Barton," Stark announced as soon as the door opened. "Jesus, how many mission reports did he miss anyway?"

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Stark shrugged. "Pots and kettles, Coulson. Barton, have you ever considered arrows that freeze stuff on contact?"

***

The making out in supply closets part of Clint's secret relationship plan was a total disaster. In retrospect, they agreed that Clint probably should have realised that ambushing Phil and trying to pull him into a supply closet would cause a problem.

Explaining to medical why Clint had a black eye and needed two stitches in his eyebrow was not one of Phil's favourite moments.

The purchase request for new shelving in storage closet IB-188 was just plain embarrassing.

Natasha merely raised an eyebrow when she found them in the tower kitchen later that day, Clint holding an ice-pack to his bruised jaw and Phil icing his hand.

"Sparring," they said in unison.

"Is that what you're calling it today?" she said with a smirk as she left.

Through the door they heard her say, "Try the stationary closet two floors down. I hear it's roomy."

Phil decided not to even think about how she knew that.

"I didn't break rule one," Clint said grumpily.

"The spirit of rule one took a beating, though," Phil said.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Rule one specified sex. Do we need a refresh course in the difference between sex and making out?"

"Maybe later."

There was a pause as Clint considered the problem thoughtfully. "Maybe I should warn you the next time."

"A warning might have resulted in less property damage. Although if you're planning on trying that again at headquarters, it would still be breaking rule one so-"

Clint shook his head. "Oh no, I'm getting the making out in supply closets part of this secret relationship thing. When my jaw stops throbbing, we'll schedule something for the tower."

***

The whole secret relationship thing would probably have worked better if it wasn't Clint that made up half the relationship. Phil had extensive training in being sneaky, discreet and bland.

Clint was...Clint.

He was an excellent sniper, could hide in plain sight almost as well as Natasha and there was nobody else that Phil would want more at his back in a tight spot.

Clint was also a risk-taker who didn't know how to stop pushing the limits.

In all fairness, Phil had to admit that any horrendous innuendos (and Clint was a master of them) stayed off the comms and out of anyone's hearing except his. Unfortunately, Clint was throwing himself into the secret relationship role with gusto and apparently considered anything else fair game for exploitation.

For example, any sensible person trying to keep a relationship out of sight from his team-mates would never attempt a seduction over breakfast, particularly breakfast with half the team. Not even if they had barely had two minutes alone together for several days.

This was Clint though, so he perched himself on a kitchen counter behind Natasha, Steve, and Tony, who was making a rare pre-noon appearance from the workshop. While everyone else quietly sat at the table, ate cereal, drank coffee and peered blearily at the morning papers, Clint proceeded to turn eating one of those horrible yogurt in a tube things into something out of a porn movie.

All of Phil's warning glares only made Clint's grin wider and got Phil some odd looks from Steve.

When Clint held up a second yogurt tube, Phil gave in and said, sound as weary as he could fake, "Barton, your last mission report hasn't been filed. My quarters, fifteen minutes."

"Sure thing, boss."

Stark looked up from his coffee. "Paperwork? On a Saturday?"

"It's the less glamorous side of the superhero gig," Clint said with an improbably innocent smile, "but it has to be done."

"I knew there was going to be a down side to letting you all live here," Stark grumbled.

"If I remember correctly, there was very little choice in it for me," Phil said. "Fifteen minutes, Barton."

Phil's cell phone buzzed as he left the kitchen. Natasha's text simply read, "Paperwork? Is that what you're calling it today?"

***

The other problem with living in a tower filled with superheroes and trying to secretly date one of them was the tower filled with superheroes.

They were loud. There were occasional explosions. Arguments were frequent, required refereeing for the safety of Manhattan and Phil always got picked as the referee even if it was three in the morning. The weekly pizza and movie night was epic and only got cancelled in the event of imminent planetary invasion.

The nights that weren't interrupted by Stark or by someone else looking for a referee were regularly interrupted by Steve's voice announcing "Avengers Assemble". Quiet afternoons and sleepy mornings were as rare as undisturbed nights.

***

Phil handed the menu back to their server and smiled at Clint. So far, their second actual, official date was going much better than the first. For a start, they had ordered food. The first date had been cancelled due to Avenging before they even got through the door of the restaurant.

It had been worth the wait and the carefully placed cover stories. Clint's blue shirt did amazing things to his eyes, the black jeans hugged his ass just right and Phil was already looking forward to the end of the night and peeling those jeans off him.

"So, I guess this is what people with normal jobs do, huh?" Clint said with a smile.

Phil shrugged. "I've heard about this kind of thing."

"Feels kind of weird."

"Weird?"

Clint took a cautious sip of the fancy beer he had ordered and smile appreciatively. "You and me alone together, not on a mission, outside your office and not in a bed. Weird."

"Ah." Phil considered it. "I could arrange a mission, if you'd like."

"Nah, I'm good." Clint grinned. "It's a nice kind of weird."

"I'm flattered."

"You should be. I don't put out before the first date for just anyone."

Phil snorted. "I could have bought you dinner first, but you seemed fairly adamant about not waiting that long."

"You didn't even buy me breakfast after," Clint complained. "In fact, I think this might be the first time you've bought dinner when it wasn't on the company dime."

"How do you know that I won't be expensing this? Liaising with an asset, there's an entire set of forms for that."

"Fiddling your expenses?" Clint shook his head. "I'll never believe it."

Any retort that Phil might have made was cut off as his phone buzzed. A moment later Clint's pager began beeping.

"Fuck," Clint muttered as he glared at the traitorous little piece of technology.

"Apparently not tonight," Phil said.

***

"Giant fire-breathing chihuahuas," Clint said hours later as he dropped from the air vent into Phil's bedroom. "The universe is just laughing at us now."

Phil finished unbuttoning his shirt and sighed. "Are you sure that you're supposed to be crawling around up there?"

A white bandage stood out starkly on Clint's neck and there were dozens of scrapes along Clint's bare arms. Giant fire-breathing chihauhuas might sound ridiculous, but they were surprisingly vicious despite a tendency to shiver violently and constantly that made their aim fairly random.

Clint shrugged. "Medical cleared me."

"For three days of rest at home," Phil said. "Climbing through air vents isn't rest."

"How else was I supposed to get here?" Clint asked reasonably, pulling his SHIELD-issue t-shirt off.

The blue shirt had been beautiful while it lasted, but hadn't stood up well to several hours of fighting and Phil's mission report was going to include a recommendation for Clint's spare uniform to be on-hand at all times just in case.

"You could have stayed in your own quarters," Phil said. "I don't think either of us is up for much now."

Clint raised his eyebrows with a small smirk.

"Your recuperative powers are impressive," Phil said, allowing a hint of a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth. "The answer is no, not tonight."

"The romance is definitely gone," Clint grumbled, kicking off his boots and jeans.

"Postponed," Phil said, as he finished stripping to his underwear and climbed into bed. "I prefer it if my partners aren't wincing every time I touch them."

As Clint had just winced when the sheet brushed a slightly singed spot over his ribs, it was a valid objection.

"Tomorrow," Clint said. "You almost bought me dinner, that totally counts as a date, so sex tomorrow."

Phil crossed rule six, "Date night is sacred", off the list the next morning.

***

"I take it back," Clint said as JARVIS wearily informed them that Stark was on his way to Phil's floor. "If it gets me two solid hours to ravish you, I'll tolerate Stark's jokes. Even two solid hours of napping with you would be amazing right now."

"This secret relationship idea does seem to be a lot of work with not much reward," Phil agreed.

Clint sat on the side of the bed to pull on his socks and boots. "It's not that I'm looking for hearts and flowers and poetry and shit, but is an entire afternoon with no interruptions where we can just sit too much to ask?"

"Thirty seconds, sirs," JARVIS said.

"Apparently."

***

In the end it wasn't any of the near-misses that outed them. It wasn't even anything Clint did deliberately.

It was a morning where Clint had finally crawled through the air vents and into Phil's bed well after five in the morning, mumbling something about paintball wars as he drifted off. Phil got up at his usual time a couple of hours later despite his interrupted night and left Clint to sleep.

The kitchen was filled, for once, with every Avenger apart from Clint and halfway through breakfast Pepper strolled in fresh off the jet from DC. Stark's eyes lit up and Phil couldn't decide whether it was Pepper or the large paper cup of fancy coffee that he stole from her that Stark loved more.

Clint shuffled in shortly after, looking barely awake and still dressed in the pyjama pants and t-shirt he had gone to sleep in. He stole Phil's coffee, downed half of it in one gulp, returned it and wandered blearily towards the fridge.

Stark's eyes widened. He stared at Clint.

He stared at the mug of coffee in Phil's hand.

He stared at Clint again.

"No fucking way," he announced.

Pepper looked a little concerned. "No way what?"

Stark smiled broadly. "Our handler is fucking Clint."

Phil plastered on the blandest smile in his arsenal and out of the corner of his eye he saw Clint freeze for a moment and then slowly turn to look at Stark.

"How do you know that?" Pepper asked.

Stark held up the coffee that he had stolen from her. "Nobody lets someone steal their coffee unless they're fucking."

Pepper promptly stole her coffee back with a roll of her eyes.

"The coffee," Natasha said incredulously. "It's the coffee that you notice. Of course it is."

Stark shrugged. "I did think that Clint was suddenly very dedicated to his paperwork but it didn't seem important."

"It wasn't about you," Pepper translated.

"Exactly."

"This is the first time you noticed anything?" Banner asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You knew too?" Clint asked. "I knew that Nat knew, but you?"

Natasha smiled. "Clint, you are many wonderful things but subtle isn't one of them."

"I'd be offended if I wasn't so tired."

"Wait, I'm the last to know?" Stark said.

"That's what it looks like," Steve said, turning towards Phil. "Sorry, sir, I've known for a couple of weeks. You didn't lock the door when you were sparring."

"That's perfectly fine," Phil said. Despite Clint's best attempts there hadn't been anything more dangerous than a few kisses that afternoon but apparently Steve's visit had been as badly time as everything else about the last month. "Thank you for your discretion."

"Not a problem, sir."

Clint closed the fridge door and rubbed a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in tufts. "Stark, we will tase you at the first sign of a bad joke."

Stark held up his hands, trying to look innocent.

"I'm not even kidding," Clint said firmly.

Then he marched across the kitchen, planted a firm, dry kiss on Phil's lips and glared at Stark.

"That...is deeply disturbing on so many levels," Stark said.

Pepper punched his arm and confiscated the coffee that he had been trying to steal back.

"What?" Stark said. "It's like that time I found out my best friend was sleeping with our high school English teacher."

All eyes turned towards Stark.

"OK, first of all this was before Rhodey," Stark said quickly. "And second, he was seventeen at the time so it was practically legal. Just very weird."

"You need to stop explaining now, Tony," Pepper said. "They share a home with you and they're usually armed."

"We also like them much more than we like you," Natasha added.

"And on that note," Clint said, "I think we're done here and I've had less than three hours' sleep, thank you Stark, so I'm going back to bed. To sleep. With our handler."

"How was I supposed to know you had better things to do?" Stark complained.

Phil pretended that he couldn't feel everyone's gaze following him as he left the kitchen with Clint. They really did nap for several hours.

And two hours after they woke up from the extended nap, because they were a bit occupied for those two hours, rule eight was crossed off the list.

**Author's Note:**

> PS. The yoghurt is Fahre's fault. Completely.


End file.
